Save Me
by reviewgirl911
Summary: Harry's life with the Dursley was far worse than he let on. What happens when old friend from Privet Drive appear at Number 12 during the Christmas break? What will the Order learn about Harry? Set during OotP
1. Chapter 1

**Here's my new HP story! Hope u enjoy! Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Otherwise, I wouldn't be sitting in World History writing this right now. **

It was a quiet evening at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Mrs. Weasley was sitting in one of the dark chairs furiously knitting a sweater. Ron and Hermoine were focused on a game of wizard's chess while Harry just stared off into space, an activity that worried all of his friends. The twins were spent over a piece of paper and mumbling, trying to conceal what they were doing from their mother. Sirius and Remus, on the other hand, were quietly discussing something that Harry was trying to eavesdrop in on. It seemed like the two were having an argument, but he couldn't hear. Ginny was reading a book, her eyes occasionally glancing over at Harry. Mr. Weasley was still in St. Mungo but was to be released soon. Everything was calm.

Until Kreacher began shouting. Sirius stood up, sighing. He hated the damn creature. "Kreacher, shut up!" he growled. Being stuck in his childhood prison wasn't doing much for his mood.

Kreacher continued to scream. "Intruder! Intruder! Filthy little mud-blood girl!" The adults of the room stood up and clutched their wands tightly. This could be a trap. They waited.

What came surprised them. It really was a little girl of about five years old. She had long brown hair that needed to be cut and amber eyes. Her clothes were clean but ragged, and she was walking funny. Her eyes immediately turned to Harry. "'Arry!" she shouted. "Sissy hurt! You 'ave to help her!"

Harry sprang up, his face showing disbelief. "Emma, what are you doing here?" he asked worriedly. His mind began racing.

The little girl began a hasty explanation. "Daddy came home from the wooden box! Sissy told me to hide in the closet! I hid. Daddy got angry again. When he left again, I came out and Sissy hurt!" Emma had tears streaming down her face. "Sissy hurt! You have to help her!"

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Fred murmured to George, "The wooden box?" Unfortunately, Mrs. Weasley heard this, and she wacked both of them on the head.

Harry nodded. "I'm going to help her, I promise," he reassured the little girl. "Where is she?"

"Brown room," Emma answered softly. Harry knew she meant living room. He nodded and took an item none of them had noticed the little girl had been holding from her hand.

"Stay here," Harry instructed the tiny girl. "These people won't hurt you. You can trust them. Okay?" Emma nodded, still frightened.

"Harry, where are you going?" Hermoine shouted.

"Be back soon!" he shouted. Sirius and Remus ran to stop him, but they weren't fast enough. Harry was gone before they could blink.

* * *

><p>Harry landed on his back in Izzy's backyard. He got up and crept inside quietly, trying to avoid making too much unnecessary noise. It would spook Iz and alert her dad if he was still there. Harry doubted this, but you never knew. He entered through the back screen door. The setup of this house was identical to that of the Dursley's so he was able to find her in a matter of seconds.<p>

"Oh shit," Harry murmured to himself. Emma hadn't been exaggerating. Iz really was hurt. There were bruises in various shades of fading all over her blooding and blood coming from her mouth. Her black hair was matted with blood, and her usually pink lips were pale. Please don't have a concussion, he hoped to himself. He lifted her up from the floor, gently carrying her upstairs. He grabbed the things he knew she'd want and threw them into a bag. He also grabbed his own secret stash of stuff he kept there.

Iz started to wake up, noticing she was no longer on the ground. She opened her eyes faintly and immediately recognized the green eyes of her best friend. "Harry," she mumbled.

"Don't worry," Harry stated. "I'm getting you out of here."

"Emma…" Iz started.

"She's safe," Harry answered. "Just stay wake a little bit longer."

"Okay," Iz agreed faintly. He carried her out of the house. "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe," Harry replied. He grabbed the Portkey and held Iz tightly. The two friends were suddenly spun back to the Order headquarters, where Harry's friends were waiting anxiously.

Mrs. Weasley and Sirius seemed to be holding a pacing contest. Hermoine was wringing her hands in worry while Ron murmured things to comfort her. Remus had gone to alert the Order, and even the twins looked uncharacteristically serious. Only Ginny took notice of the little girl. The first thing she noticed was that the little girl seemed afraid to look any of them in the eye. She walked over to where the little girl was sitting and sat down next to her. "Hi, my name's Ginny," she said gently. "What's yours?"

"Emma," the little girl answered trembling. The redhead noticed that Emma was clutching something tightly in her hands.

"What's that you have there?" she coaxed. Emma let go of the object. It was a book and a well-worn one at that. She peered at the cover. The title of the book was the Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. "Huh, I don't think I've read that one before. Is it any good?"

The little girl's amber eyes shined. "It's my favorite," she answered happily. Emma then went on to explain the various twists and turns of the plot line, her personality shining through.

"May I look at it?" Ginny asked politely. The little girl nodded and handed her the book. The redhead fingered it lightly before opening the cover page. She saw something that surprised her: a small little scribble in the left hand corner. She peered more closely and realized what it said. "Property of Harry Potter," she whispered.

Before Ginny could think about this more, however, Harry appeared in the living room holding a girl who looked like she'd been through hell. Emma's eyes turned frightened. "Sissy!" she shouted.

"Don't worry, Em," Harry reassured the little girl who was on the brink of tears. "I'm going to make her better." He turned to Mrs. Weasley. "Can you help me?"

"Of course, dear," she responded quickly, running to get everything she needed to help the poor girl.

Everyone else just watched in shocked silence as Harry carried her over to the couch. "Tired," Izzy mumbled. "Just wanna sleep."

"You can sleep when we know you don't have a concussion," Harry retorted.

"Where are we?" she asked, her head pounding.

"Somewhere safe," Harry replied. Mrs. Weasley returned with everything they needed to heal Iz.

Mrs. Weasley reached out to put some Bruise Balm on the girl's arm, but she instinctively jerked away. This worried her more than anyone could imagine. If this was Harry's friend, what horrors had he seen? She seemed to be the only one with this thought, however. Everyone else just seemed intrigued by this girl who, though bruised and beaten, was still beautiful.

"I'll do that," Harry offered. Mrs. Weasley handed him the container. He gently rubbed it on his friend's arm and cheek.

"Why won't she let anyone touch her?" Hermoine asked, now just regaining her ability to speak.

"Touching is fine," Harry replied. "It's the reaching out that's bad. Getting grabbed means getting beaten."

"And how do you know this?" the bushy-haired girl asked suspiciously. Harry froze up but didn't let it show. His friends could never know what he had suffered at the Dursleys. It would just worry them, and he didn't need any pity.

"Izzy has been my friend since we were five," Harry answered. "You learn these things."

Hermoine nodded. Some of the adults in the room, however, weren't as convinced. Harry's voice seemed just a bit too forced, and there was a dark shadow in his eyes. What had the Dursleys done to Harry?

Izzy, now more aware of her surroundings, scanned around the room curiously with her light blue eyes. Harry hadn't been kidding when he described Number 12 in his letters. It was possibly the dreariest house she had ever stepped foot in. More interesting to her than the house, however, were the people. Harry had described his friends in his letters to the tee. Ron Weasley was tall and gangly, red hair and freckles while Hermione Granger had bushy brown hair and warm brown eyes that gleamed with intelligence. She could practically smell the mischief rolling off the Weasley twins, Fred and George. Mrs. Weasley had a kind maternal air around her, one that painfully reminded her of her own mother. Of course, your mother didn't really care that much, a little voice in her head nagged. She left you and your sister in hell after all. Shaking away that thought, she studied the last Weasley. Izzy couldn't place it, but something about the redhead felt oddly familiar. She didn't know what she thought of Sirius Black. The black-haired girl knew that the man cared about Harry, but she wasn't too keen on trusting men.

After observing everyone else, Izzy cast her critical eye over to her best friend. Harry looks like crap, she thought to herself. And he did. His skin had a shallow, sickly tint to it, and there were dark shadows under his eyes, indicating the need for a good night's sleep. Harry looked so old, so weary, nothing like the boy she'd befriended all those years ago. Sometimes she got afraid that boy was lost forever, but then he would laugh or say something that reminded her he was still their Harry.

Izzy winced as Harry put something on her arm. She pouted. Harry rolled his eyes. "You know it helps when you sit still, right?" he asked sarcastically. She stuck her tongue out at him.

"You're not sleeping," she stated bluntly. Everyone looked up.

"Is that a question?" Harry shot back, trying to focus on what he was doing.

"No," Izzy replied. "I don't ask questions I know the answers to." Harry rolled his eyes. That was such an Izzy response. "Still having the nightmares?"

Harry froze but only noticeably enough for a trained eye to catch it. "Isn't that question breaking your rule?" Izzy shrugged. He finished applying a bandage and turned to his best friend. "What happened?"

Izzy felt like something was caught her throat. "I don't know what you're talking about," she replied stubbornly.

Everyone watched Harry's intense emerald eyes narrow. "Really? So how'd you get those bruises, huh? Fell down the stairs?"

"Harry…" Izzy warned, glancing at her little sister. She wanted to shield Emma from all of this, from their screwed up world.

Harry looked at the little girl before taking a deep breath. "Later," he demanded, his eyes never losing their intensity.

"Later," Izzy agreed.

"Hungry?"

"Starved." And to the confusion of many, the two old friends shared a smirk. The Weasleys, Hermoine, and Sirius were officially curious. Who was this girl?


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey! Thanks for the reviews! I'm glad you guys like this so far. Enjoy! Next chapter will have a confrontation between Harry, the Order, and his friends. Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter because I'm not J.K. Rowling.**

"Mmm, this is good," Izzy complimented, taking a bite out of her steak pie. Harry smirked at her. "Shut it, Harry!"

"Thank you, dear," Mrs. Weasley responded.

At first, both girls had picked at their food quietly, but Harry gave Izzy a I-know-it's-been-weeks-since-you-had-a-proper-meal-look. She then dug into her pie, and Emma followed by example. Everyone else at the table was eating as well. Izzy noticed Harry didn't seem interested in his plate.

"Not hungry?" she questioned worriedly.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm fine," he reassured the black-haired beauty.

Izzy groaned, something that made all the Weasleys plus Hermione grin. "God, can't you find another phrase in the English language? I'm so sick of that one."

Emma ate her food quickly, as if expecting someone to swoop in and take the plate away. "Emma, don't eat so fast," her older sister lectured. "You'll get sick." She frowned until Harry leaned over and whispered something to her, making the little girl laugh.

Izzy glared at him. "What did you tell her?" she demanded.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry stated innocently. Sensing an argument, Hermione quickly changed the subject.

"So how long have you guys been friends?" she asked curiously.

Izzy studied Hermione carefully before answering. She had a feeling she'd grow to like her. "Since we were five." From what she could tell, Harry hadn't told them much. It was better to keep their answers as short as possible.

Emma, on the other hand, was younger and didn't have the same experience. "And don't forget Johnny!" she reminded her older sister.

"Johnny?" Ron questioned skeptically.

"He's the third musketeer," Izzy answered quickly, noticing the dark shadows now in Harry's eyes. Because what she'd never tell is that there used to be four of them.

"How's John?" Harry interrupted curiously.

"Locked up again," Izzy answered wearily.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course."

Izzy shrugged. "It's better than his latest foster home."

"Foster home?" Remus repeated.

"John's mom was addicted to drugs, and he never knew his dad," Izzy explained. "We think he's a wizard because everyone always referred to him as 'the freak', but we'll never know."

"That's awful," Mrs. Weasley cried. Everyone else in the room seemed similarly shocked.

Izzy shrugged. "Some of us have had worse," she stated, her eyes shifting over to Harry as she talked. He avoided her gaze, knowing there would be some kind of confrontation if he looked up.

"Worse?" Sirius repeated skeptically. "What could be worse?

Harry gave Izzy a look daring her to go any farther. The dark-haired girl stopped. Meanwhile, Emma was playing with Harry's hand. The little girl frowned slightly when she felt something bumpy on the side of his hand. Running her fingers over it, she looked down. She could make out words. Emma squinted harder and read what it said. I must not tell lies was deeply carved into his skin. The brown-haired girl was confused. Harry wasn't a liar. He never lied to them.

Izzy noticed her little sister frowning. "Emma, what's wrong?" she questioned softly.

"Something's wrong with 'Arry's hand," the little girl answered quietly. Harry froze.

"Nothing's wrong with my hand," he lied. Hermoine and Ron, knowing what the little girl was talking about, narrowed their eyes. Harry had managed to get them to not tell McGonagall or Dumbledore, but they could tell this girl, Izzy sensed something was going on, and she narrowed her eyes also.

"Yes there is," Emma insisted. "There's words!"

"Words?" Sirius croaked. "What do you mean words?"

"Harry," Izzy stated lowly, her eyes blazing dangerously. "Let me see your hand."

"I'm fine," Harry argued, his eyes hardening. He didn't want her to bring this up now.

"Harry James Potter, give me your hand right now," she said in a threatening tone. Harry wordlessly held out his hand. Izzy grabbed it and gasped. I must not tell lies was carved into his hand, visible for everyone to see.

Mrs. Weasley face turned almost as red as her hair, and Sirius and Remus looked ready to kill. The rest of the Weasley except Ron looked outraged as well. Izzy, however, was probably the scariest one in the room. Her light blue eyes seemed to have a fire hidden behind them, a fierceness none of them could imagine from the girl they had met only an hour ago.

"Who did this?" she asked through clench teeth. Izzy couldn't believe this. All that crap Harry had told them, how he was safe at that school, was just that. Crap. If you had words carved on your fucking hand, you weren't safe.

"It doesn't make a difference," Harry stated coldly. "You can't do anything about it."

"It does matter! You have words carved into your hand!" Izzy ranted. She gave him an accusatory glare. "You said you were safe there."

The Weasley children plus Hermione all gave out huge snorts. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley both looked somewhat worried while Remus and Sirius looked at each other curiously. She waved them out. "I don't count the saving-the-world crap," she clarified. "Harry's hero complex is just something I've gotten used to."

Izzy shook her head as if trying to get back in focus. "But that wasn't my point. You said you were safe there. You promised you were safe there!" Harry tried to speak, but she cut him off. "Don't you known that John and I worry about you? Half the time the only reason we didn't storm the castle was that we thought you'd be okay!"

"It's not that bad," Harry murmured.

"Compared to?" Izzy pushed. Now it was Harry's turn to give her a look.

"You know what," he stated. Izzy nodded, understanding what he was talking about. Their childhoods had been hell, but Harry had always had it worse than her. As a little girl, she had her mom, who protected her, and now she had Emma to keep her afloat. Harry only had himself to rely on.

"We'll talk more about this later," she agreed. Harry smiled a genuine smile at her to the shock of most the people in the room.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

"You're a git," she stated.

"I know," he responded. Everyone looked at each other in confusion. What had just happened? Who was this girl? What did she know about Harry? It was definitely time for an emergency Order meeting…


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey! Thanks for all the reviews! Sorry I haven't updated in a while. Enjoy! Disclaimer: JKR owns the awesomeness, not me.**

Everyone was scattered around the living room, but almost all eyes were on Harry. What his friend had said at dinner worried all of them. Little inconsistences were starting to add up in everyone's heads. Ron and the twins remembered the bars on Harry's window summer before second year and the manic way his uncle tried to keep him inside. Hermione recalled the time when Harry said his relatives would've been disappointed that he hadn't died. Sirius remembered Harry's reaction to his offer to live with him, how he had jumped at the chance to leave the Dursleys. Mrs. Weasley remembered the frighteningly thin boy dressed in cast-offs nervously asking her how to get onto the platform. No matter what the memory was, the general conscience was clear: More was going on at Harry's home than what he wanted them to know. This girl, Izzy, was the key to uncovering that.

Meanwhile, Izzy rummaged through her bag, looking for the thing she had wanted to give. Finally, she found it. "Here," the black-haired girl said to Harry, handing him a small package. Seeing Harry's skeptical look, she clarified. "Mark wants your opinion on these." Harry's face broke out into a grin as he ripped open the packaging. Sirius and Remus were both struck by how young Harry looked in that moment, like an innocent little kid. No one in the room could ever remember seeing Harry look like that.

Harry scanned the list Mark attached, recognizing some of the bands. "Not bad," he judged. "A couple of these groups are new."

Izzy rolled her eyes. "I'm sure they all play their instruments way too loud," she teased. Ron and Hermione exchanged a look. What in the world was this girl talking about? Seeing confused looks around the room, she backtracked. "Harry's a music snob when it comes to rock. Personally, I detest the stuff, but he and John love it. Of course, Harry's pickier than John is, which is why Mark has him listen to albums to see if they're any good or not."

"I'm not a music snob!" Harry protested. Izzy shot him a look. "Fine, I am, but only because of Patrick. He said, 'If you kids are going to come here and eat all my food, one of you has to learn something.'"

Izzy let a laugh, a laugh that sounded like music to everyone in the room simply because it was free. "Gotta love that Patrick."

"Who's Patrick?" Sirius questioned suspiciously. Harry and Izzy exchanged a look that wasn't missed by anyone. It was like they were silently deciding what to say and what to hide.

"He's someone who cares," Izzy answered quietly. "He lets us stay at his house sometimes."

"Why would you need to stay at someone else's house?" Mrs. Weasley asked with narrowed eyes. Not at her, of course, but of the dark things that statement implicated.

Izzy smiled sardonically. "I didn't fall down the stairs," she stated.

"Iz," Harry hissed, not liking where this conversation was going. They didn't need to know about his pasts, about the bruises and cuts and things no one else ever knew about. They didn't need to know about his childhood, about a life spent in a cupboard or protecting a little blonde girl. It wasn't any of their business, and she didn't need to make it theirs.

"What? I'm not ashamed!" she shouted. "I'm not hiding anything."

"And are you saying I am?" Harry challenged. Izzy looked him directly in the eyes, and he looked away. That look hurt. It reminded him of better times, of days spent in a creek, two little girls laughing as they pulled two little boys with them. He couldn't relieve those memories. He just couldn't.

Izzy softened, sensing the pain she was causing her best friend. She understood, in a way, why he tried so hard to distance himself from their past. It was a way to cope, a way not to hear the voices murmuring in your trying to pull you back. "I think you spend a lot of time running away."

Harry shrugged. "I like to run," he shot back cryptically. Izzy rolled her eyes but smiled softly.

"It's good to know some things never change," she murmured.

"Like?"

"Well, we still know how to fight," Izzy offered. Harry laughed, a deep laugh that shocked everyone and relieved Izzy. She had thought Harry had forgotten how to laugh, how to have joy in his life. It was good to know otherwise.

Later that night, when everyone was asleep, Harry laid in his bed and closed his eyes, letting himself remember things he had thought he forgotten, some things things that probably should be forgotten

_A five-year-old Harry sat in his cupboard, clutching his bleeding head but not crying. Crying wasn't allowed at the Dursleys. The more you cried, the harder they hit you. Harry had learned this lesson the hard way. He reached out and grabbed his favorite book, The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. It had been his teacher's, but she had noticed how much he loved it and gave it to him. Harry had scribbled his name in the top corner of the cover page so that everyone knew it was his book. Harry didn't have a lot of things that were his. Everything belonged to either his aunt and uncle or Dudley, but this, this book, belonged to him. He had been very careful sneaking the book into his house because the Dursleys didn't approve of magic or even imagination. Harry, on the other hand, liked losing himself in other worlds. He liked imagining places better than Privet Drive. _

Harry's mind flashed to another memory a little later in time. It had been one of the few happy ones he'd ever had.

_ "Come on, Harry!"Izzy shouted, her black hair swinging as she ran. "We're gonna be late!"_

_ "Coming!" he shouted back, trying to keep up with his black-haired friend. They were going to Patrick's house for dinner. Harry hadn't had a proper meal in a week, and Izzy didn't like eating at home because her dad would usually get mad. Johnny and Daisy were both going to be there. Johnny was staying the week with Patrick because his foster parents were out of town while Daisy parents' dumped her there while they had a fancy dinner party. Weirdly enough, it was also Harry's eighth birthday. _

_ He followed Izzy into the house and was surprised to see Johnny, Daisy, and Patrick all smiling at him and wearing party hats on their heads. "Happy birthday, Harry!" they all shouted. Harry stood there in shock. He couldn't remember the last birthday he had actually celebrated._

_ Daisy smiled at him, her blonde hair glowing like a goddess. "Happy birthday, Harry," she whispered. "Make a wish."_

_ Harry grinned and closed his eyes, contemplating his wish for a moment before blowing at the candles. Really, there wasn't much he could wish for. All his dreams had already come true._

That was thing about Harry's childhood. Good or bad, it was complicated and messy and hard to get into. Sure, he has good memories and bad memories, but they were his nonetheless. And he wouldn't let anyone else have them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey! Thanks for all the reviews! They're always appreciated. Enjoy the chapter. Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, I wouldn't be sitting in my school's silent study writing this, now would I? Didn't think so.**

Izzy woke up early the next morning. At first she was panicked, not realizing where she was, before remembering that Harry had saved her. She and Emma were safe, at least for now. She pulled her long black hair into a ponytail and headed downstairs, kissing on Emma on the forehead before leaving the room. The little girl was sleeping peacefully on the bed they had been given, her sweet little face calm. Izzy hoped she was having good dreams. She hoped they all came true.

Heading into the kitchen, Izzy tried to be quiet, not wanting to wake anyone up. Everyone in the room last night had looked tired, probably a side effect of this war they were fighting. Harry had told her everything about this world, and she was scared for him. Harry didn't seem scared, but then again, Harry never seemed scared. He kept his emotions so deep down in his heart that it was hard to remember they were there sometimes. Yet Izzy still knew that his heart was there, still knew that the little boy she had befriended was down there somewhere.

Izzy looked around the grim kitchen. She went into the cupboards and pulled out everything she needed to make a good breakfast. It was the perfect thank you to these people who had let her and Emma stay.

By the time Harry made his way downstairs, Izzy was in the middle of making breakfast. Granted, she couldn't really cook much, but how hard could eggs, bangers, and toast be?

Harry nearly burst out laughing when he saw Izzy in the kitchen cooking. What on earth was she thinking? The girl could burn water. "Iz, what are you doing?" he asked, trying to keep the laugh out of his voice.

"Cooking," Izzy replied indignantly.

"Cooking?" Harry repeated. "You're the girl who almost burnt down Patrick's kitchen trying to turn on the stove."

"It was just that one time!" she protested. Nevertheless, Harry moved her away from the stove and took over. He had a lot of experience cooking breakfast. Being the Dursley's slave for ten years had its perks. He expertly cracked the eggs onto the pan while watching the sausage. Izzy never knew how Harry made cooking look so graceful.

By the time everyone else started to make their way downstairs, smelling something wonderful in the kitchen, Harry was basically finished. Izzy had set the table, probably the only useful thing she could do in the kitchen, and was sitting on the counter, munching on a piece of toast.

"What in the world…" Mrs. Weasley muttered. Emma bolted past her, however, right over to where her sister and Harry were.

"Breakfast!" the little girl squealed excitedly, as if she never got to have. Then again, looking at the size of both girls, Mrs. Weasley guessed she didn't.

Izzy ruffled her sister's brown hair. "Yep, breakfast! And you know what's even better?"

"What?" Emma guessed, practically bouncing on her heels.

"Harry made it!" Izzy stated, knowing that would make her little sister happy. Harry made awesome breakfasts.

The little girl squealed. "'Arry's cooking better than yours," the little girl said matter-of-factly. Harry just laughed while Izzy looked offended.

By now, Sirius and Remus had also made their way downstairs. Sirius looked around his kitchen in amusement. "What's going on here?" he asked.

"I made breakfast," Izzy piped up. Harry gave her a look. "Okay, fine, Harry made breakfast. But I helped!"

"You set the table," Harry clarified.

"Only because you wouldn't let me help!" she argued.

"Because I figured Sirius wouldn't like his kitchen burned down," he retorted.

"Actually," Sirius started to say, but Remus cut him off.

"We are not burning down your house," the werewolf lectured.

"But…" Sirius whined.

"No," Remus repeated.

Izzy smiled. "I like your godfather," she told Harry quietly.

Harry nodded, not saying a word. Izzy knew he didn't trust words at that moment. Because, no matter how much he loved this new godfather, which she knew was a lot, he still wouldn't be able to trust him. The lessons of the Dursleys were firmly beaten into his DNA. Don't trust anyone because they'll end up hurting you in the end.

Mrs. Weasley called everyone down for breakfast. The table was full, a sea of red with black and brown sprinkled in between. Harry handed Emma and Izzy their plates. Izzy frowned.

"Harry, she's not going to eat those," Izzy state, pointing to the eggs.

Emma shook her head and picked up her fork awkward. "'Arry's eggs better than yours," she stated before taking a huge bite of her scrambled eggs. Everyone laughed. Izzy just looked over at Harry. He leaned in and whispered something to her.

"That's cheating!" she shouted. Harry shrugged.

"What?" Hermione asked curiously.

"He sprinkles a tiny bit of sugar on top of her eggs," Izzy accused.

"That's what Linda always did for us," Harry muttered quietly. Izzy looked sharply at him.

"What?" she asked.

"Linda used to sprinkle sugar on top of our eggs," he explained. "That's why they tasted so good."

Izzy was quiet for a moment. "How do you know?"

"Patrick told me that last time I was over," Harry replied. After this exchange, conversation broke out throughout the table. Izzy and Harry participated, but their hearts weren't in it. They were still thinking of Linda and Patrick and the little makeshift family they had found in the most unexpected place.

After breakfast, everyone went back to the living room. Ron and Ginny were playing wizard's chess, and Hermione had her nose in an extremely old, thick book. Sirius and Remus were playing a game of Exploding Snap. Fred and George were cooped up in their room, working on their products, while Mr. Weasley fiddled with a Muggle television. Mrs. Weasley was trying to clean up some of the ghastly rooms in the Black home. Izzy had Emma on her lap and was carefully braiding the girl's long hair. Harry was simply sitting there, lost in his thoughts.

"'Arry?" Emma's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "Story?" she asked gently. Harry smiled at her.

"Sure, Em," he replied. "Which one?"

"Four friends," she requested.

Harry nodded. "Should I start at the beginning?"

The little girl shook her head. "Middle," she clarified. "When the boy rescues the girl."

Izzy looked at Harry curiously. What kind of stories was he telling her little sister. She focused on her braiding but listened intently.

"Once upon a time," Harry started. "There were four friends who loved each other very much, but they weren't always friends. The one boy had black hair that never laid flat and emerald green eyes." Harry's eyes got sad as he started the next part. "The one girl had long blonde hair. It was curly and looked like rings of gold. She could've been an angel she was so pretty. She had a wonderful laugh, almost like music. She loved to smile."

"And she was the boy's first friend," Emma finished happily. Harry nodded.

"Yeah, she was," he answered. "One day, the two friends were eating lunch outside. They were hidden because the boy's cousin was a mean kid who liked to torment him."

"And there was another girl," Emma added.

"Yep," Harry said. "There was another girl. She had long black hair and light blue eyes. She wasn't friends with the other two at first. So this other girl was being picked on by the boy's cousin and his mean friends."

By now, Harry's friends were curious and listening to the story. Izzy smiled. This was the first day they had all become friends.

"And the boy decided to be an idiot and help the girl," she added with a slight smile.

"Well, that's one way to put it," Harry said.

Izzy ignored her and continued. "And so he insulted one of the bullies, and they lunged at him. The blonde girl jumped on one of the bullies' backs."

"And then one of the bullies, a tall boy with light brown hair, turned against his friends," Harry stated. "He hit one of the boys so that the girl could get away. The four kids ran as fast of they could to a huge tree that would hide them."

"And then they were friends," Emma finished cheerfully.

"And then they were friends," Harry repeated with a wistful smile.

Izzy laughed. "That was an interesting day to be sure," she quipped.

"I still can't believe Johnny hit that guy," Harry added.

"Someone talking about me?" Harry and Izzy turned around, shocked to see the third person in their trio standing in the living room. What was Johnny doing here?

"Johnny!" Emma shouted, running and hugging the guy's legs. Harry and Izzy just stood there dumbfounded.

"Miss me?" Johnny asked with a cocky grin. The rest of the room looked interested as well. Who was this?

"What are you doing here?" Izzy whispered. The boy's cocky grin faded to a more somber expression.

"Patrick's dead," he announced, eliciting a gasp from Izzy and emptiness from Harry.

"Sit down," Harry ordered in a quiet voice that still seemed to control the room. Johnny made a move to sit down, and everyone watched worriedly. What had happened now?


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey! Thanks for all the reviews! I got some interesting feedback on the last chapter, and I intend to answer all of your questions in this chapter. So now Johnny's at Number 12 as well, and there's a lot of explaining to do. Read to find out what happen! Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but I would love to. Then again, who wouldn't?**

Johnny sat down on the couch, Harry and Izzy in armchairs that faced him. Emma was on Izzy's lap. The group was silent. Izzy was at a loss for words. She couldn't believe this had happened. Patrick couldn't be gone. He was too tough, too strong, to die. As a little girl, she had truly believed Patrick was invincible, that he could battle any dragon and come out victorious. Harry was silent too, but his silence was different. His silence was one of anger instead of shock. He knew Patrick couldn't hang on much longer without Linda, but he was angry all the same. Patrick knew. He knew what they went through and what his house was to them, and he still drank himself to death.

This silence gave the people inside Grimmauld Place to get a good look at Johnny. He had dirty blonde hair that seemed in desperate need of a haircut with cold brown eyes. His arms were muscular but not overly so, and he had a rough dangerous look to him that girls probably loved. All and all, he didn't look like a guy who would be friends with Harry or Izzy. And yet he was. Hermione could tell by the body language that Harry was comfortable with the new arrival. He didn't know this, but whenever Harry was uncomfortable around someone his spin was as straight as a rod. There was a slight slouch to the way her friend was sitting that showed he was comfortable.

Johnny looked at his oldest friends. Both of them looked like they had seen better days. Izzy was obviously recovering from another beating while Harry looked like he hadn't slept in months. Then again, Johnny figured, he probably hadn't. Harry had always been a light sleeper, but his sleeping habits seemed to get worse each year he went to Hogwarts.

Izzy was the first one to speak. "What happened?" she asked quietly.

"Better question is, 'How many bottles were by his bed when you found him?'" Harry's voice was sharp and stinging, surprising everyone in the room who had never heard him use that tone. Luckily, that didn't apply to Izzy or Johnny.

"Harry," she lectured sternly. "Don't say that!"

"Why not?" Harry challenged. "It's true, isn't?" They both turned to Johnny. The boy's face gave away the answer.

"Damnit!" Harry shouted, standing up and kicking the chair. The rest of the room watched him with a little bit of hesitance. Ron and Hermione had seen Harry angry before, but it had never been this bad. Harry looked ready to explode.

"Harry..." Izzy warned. The black-haired teen seemed ignore her.

"Typical of Patrick not to give a crap," Harry muttered angrily. He couldn't believe this. Why? Why now? Patrick had been miserable for years, ever since Linda died, that much had been obvious. He just never though the old man would drink himself to death. Harry felt a lot of things right now, anger and sadness and disappointment, but surprise wasn't one of them. This was something that he had expected but knew would hurt nonetheless.

Izzy stood up, finally getting angry with her old friend. "Don't say that!" she shouted. "Patrick was the only one who gave a crap!" Izzy's blue eyes were blazing. The room watched this argument with interest.

Harry gave her a cold look. "Then how come he never told anyone, huh?  
>Harry challenged. "Why didn't he help us more?" This comment worried all the adults in the room. Why did Harry need help?<p>

"What was he supposed to do, Harry? Patrick was a grouchy alcoholic. No one was going to listen to him. Just like no one was going to listen to us." Izzy's voice was sad and tired. "He did the best he could. He gave us a place to go."

"Well, that's wasn't good enough!" Harry ranted. He could never forget the fact that Daisy had died when she should've lived. Of all of them, she should've lived.

"He loved us!" Izzy yelled back. "How many people can you say did that? Your relatives sure as hell didn't!" This comment seemed like it would sting to the rest of the room, but Harry just shrugged it off nonchalantly. Suddenly, Izzy realized what her friend was thinking.

"He didn't kill Daisy, Harry," she said softly. Harry's face hardened. Every muscle in his body was tense. For once, Izzy was actually scared of Harry.

Johnny decided this had gone on long enough. "Iz, stop," he commanded.

"Why?" his tiny girlfriend challenged.

"Because I won't be able to snog you if Harry kills you," he retorted. This brought a small smile to Izzy's face.

Harry took a deep breath, trying to get calm. Johnny continued talking. "I found Patrick's will and a letter."

"And?" Izzy prompted.

"He left us his house," Johnny stated casually.

Izzy and Harry exchanged a look before exclaiming, "What?"

"Yep," Johnny confirmed. "He left us his house and everything in it."

Emma's face lit up. She ran over to her sister, squealing. Izzy smiled at her sister, but it was a faint smile. She knew it wasn't safe to live there. Their dad could still get to them.

The will didn't interest Harry nearly as much as the letter did. "What about the letter?" he asked.

Johnny shrugged. "Didn't open it up yet." Without a word, Harry took the letter from Johnny and opened it carefully. As he unfolded the letter, a picture fell out. He picked it up gently. It was an old photograph. Harry immediately recognized the day as his eighth birthday. The four children were standing a line, arms linked. Daisy and Harry were in the middle, Izzy and Johnny on either side of them. Daisy's blonde hair was down, and a paper hat was on her head. Her smile was big and toothy, practically blinding. Her eyes sparkled with laughter, but Harry could vaguely make out a bruise on her arm. Everyone was smiling, happy in the moment, but he could still pick out the little imperfections everywhere. It was a wonderful picture nonetheless.

Harry began reading the letter. Everyone was watching his face as he read. It went from angry to sad to a softer expression no one could figure out. Once he was done, he put the letter down and headed upstairs. Izzy looked like she wanted to go after him, but Johnny shook his head. Harry had been closest to Patrick. He needed time to sort out his thoughts. Izzy looked at the letter like it was a snake.

"Can you read it out loud?" she whispered, afraid to see the words herself. Johnny nodded, and everyone perked out. This ought to be interesting...


	6. Chapter 6

** Hey! Sorry it's been so long since my last update. To make up for it, this one's super long. The group reads the letter, and there's reactions all around. What's in the letter? How will it go? Read on to find out! Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Get it through your heads!**

_Dear Harry,_

_I could probably write this letter to any of you three. It would be just as easy to write this to John or Iz, perhaps easier. But I've known you longer, and I know you better, and I owe you an explanation and possibly an apology. We'll see how much I can fit into one letter. My eyes aren't what they used to be, so bear with me._

_If you're reading this, I'm dead. Hopefully I died a ripe old age, and you're in your thirties completely happy and not bothered by things of past. Of course, as you know, the things we want to happy rarely do. It's a hard lesson to learn, Harry, but you must learn it. Sometimes things don't work out. Sometimes people die or disappoint us or do a combination of the both. I'm sorry I disappointed you._

_When I met you, you couldn't have been more than four years old. You were tiny, the clothes that practically drowned you doing nothing to help. You squinted a lot since your aunt couldn't be persuaded to get you those glasses until you were seven. The thing I noticed the most, however, was the way you walked. You walked hunched over, almost like you were waiting for someone to hit you. I watched, and then suddenly I knew. _

_Of course, Linda was the first one to do something about you. When she saw you limping across the street taking out the garbage, she called out to you. You froze, waiting for a punishment, but she just asked why you were limping. You said you tripped on the stairs, but she could tell you were lying. It's only in recent years that you've become a better liar, Harry. It took her about twenty minutes to coax you over to our house so she could help you. While Linda wrapped your leg up and asked you numerous questions, I studied you. Later, I was told this was creepy. It did serve its purpose. When Linda was done, I looked you in the eye and told you that you could come here if you ever needed a place to go. You nodded quickly and left, a little unnerved. No one ever looked you in the eye._

_But you did come back. You were at our house constantly, either getting some kind of injury fixed or enjoying a hot meal. Linda often asked if they fed you at home, and I always got the impression that they didn't. We didn't ask any questions, and you didn't offer any information. You were a quiet kid, whether by nature or habit I couldn't figure out. You didn't smile much, but you didn't really have much to smile about. But we liked you regardless. You were a good kid, if a bit shy, and we saw you as part of the family. The proudest day of my life was probably the day you could say my record collection in order of genre and year of release. Thank God I was able to teach one of you kids something. _

_And then, one day a year later, something odd happened. You came over after school, as usual, and called out your usual greeting. As long as your chores were done, your relatives didn't really care where you were. Linda was in the kitchen making something that smelled delicious so you headed there first. I was sitting at the table, drinking a cup of coffee. I nearly dropped the cup on my lap when I saw you. The first thing I noticed was a smile. You were smiling. I had never seen you smile before. The second thing I noticed was a small blonde girl standing timidly behind you, her hand in yours. She was a pretty little girl, but I had guessed that wasn't why she was standing in my kitchen. I looked at you, and your eyes seemed to say, 'She's one of us.' Linda started fussing over her immediately, and you coaxed the girl into showing Linda a nasty bruise on her arm. She really was one of us._

_Eventually, you brought Iz and John over too. Iz was like Daisy in a way, but far less dreamy. She was an optimist, though, something that constantly annoyed John. Iz could see the bright spot in any cloud. Hang on to her, Harry. It's good to have people in your life like that. John was the exact opposite. He could see any cloud on a sunny day. Of course, I don't think being raised in the foster system really fills kids with a sense of optimism. Cynicism, maybe. Watching them was like watching fire and ice. To this day, I still can't figure out which is which. Both have a temper on them._

_You and Daisy, on the other hand, were like two peas in a pod. (Pardon the American phrase. I've been reading a lot of new American novels. Horrible things, but entertaining.) You looked like opposites. Daisy had golden blonde curls and you had ink black hair that never seemed to lie flat. Looking at you two was like looking at day and night. Weirdly enough, you two never fought. It was hard to fight with Daisy. _

_You kids grew up a bit, but things didn't change much. John got angrier, Iz more cheery and taking care of Emma, and Daisy dreamer. And you? Well, I could never really tell. You had several Harrys up your sleeve, still do I suppose. Still, the four of you were as happy as currently possible. When you were around eight, you and Daisy became obsessed with magic and fairytales. You read every single one you could get your hands on. Looking back, that is easy to understand. Life on Privet Drive wasn't ideal, and it was much better to get lost in other worlds. Daisy's favorite was Peter Pan, but you loved The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. You carried that book around with you everywhere. Hell, you practically memorized the damn thing. I vaguely remember you two trying to find Narnia in my wardrobe. _

_Things started to fall apart when you were nine. You remember the night, I'm sure. You four were over for dinner, and Linda went out to get something from the store. A drunk driver hit her car that night. She died on impact, and a part of me died with her. I briefly considered killing myself then before remembering that Linda would probably find a way to haunt me if I didn't take care of her "babies", as she called you kids. I did the best that I could, Harry, I really did, but nothing was the same after that. Nothing felt the same. _

_Of course, what I really want to apologize for has been a taboo topic for the last five or so years. You don't like to talk about it, and Iz and John sure as hell don't like to bring it up. I have to. I'm sorry I couldn't save Daisy, Harry. I'm so sorry. I can guarantee you that it is the one regret I'll die with. That girl was too good and too dreamy to die that young. She should've gone tot that school and done incredible things and be standing right next to you. If I could make that happen, I would. But I can't. I'm sorry, Harry. That's all I can say. I'm sorry for not doing enough. _

_A little advice for you: Don't lose the magic. Yeah, I know that sound like stupid advice since you're a wizard and all, but you know that's not what I meant. There are many types of magic, some wizards have and some that are available to everyone. I may be a Squib, but I've experienced magic. Magic is all around. It's love and friendship and all the good stuff in life that helps you deal with the crap thrown to you. Don't lose that, Harry. Keep believing in fairy tales and worlds in cupboards. Don't let anyone take that away from you. _

_Patrick_

Johnny stopped reading and took a deep breath. That was a lot to take in. He hadn't known half that stuff in the letter, and he suspected that Izzy hadn't either. When he looked over at his girlfriend, however, a soft smile was on her face. "I knew he loved us," she whispered.

"If you know that, why doesn't Harry?" Hermione questioned curiously. There was a lot of information here, and she didn't know how to organize it.

"He does," Izzy answered sadly. "But being angry is Harry's default emotion. It's so much easier to be angry than to be sad."

Johnny nodded in agreement. "And God knows we know how to be angry."

"Some more than others," Izzy mumbled. Johnny shot her a look.

Ron, remembering Harry's burst of anger at them before school started, asked, "Does he get angry often?"

Izzy shook her head. "No. You have to really piss him off to get him angry."

"Kids at school used to call him the robot," Johnny added cheerfully.

"The robot?" Mrs. Weasley repeated worriedly. Dumbledore was getting a mouthful for putting Harry with the Dursleys when they were done here.

"He never reacted," Izzy explained. "You could insult him, hit him, punch him, whatever, and he'd just sit there, no expression at all, nothing to say."

"That's creepy," Fred commented, earning a slap from his sister. "What? It is!"

Izzy nodded in agreement. "It was. That's how the Dursleys were able to spread the rumor he was mentally disturbed."

"Mentally disturbed?" Sirius repeated angrily. The Durselys would be the ones mentally disturbed when he was done with them.

"Yep," Johnny said. "They tell everyone he goes to some made-up school for delinquents."

Izzy snorted. "Yeah, cuz Harry's such a delinquent. Hell, he wouldn't even kill flies when we were kids!"

Suddenly there was a huge crash upstairs. Everyone one except Izzy and Johnny got to their feet. "Don't bother," Izzy reassured them. "Harry's just blowing off some steam."

"Is it safe?" Ginny asked skeptically.

The dark-haired girl shrugged. "If he breaks his hand like last time, we can always fix it."

"He broke his hand!" Sirius shouted hoarsely. "Doing what?" He suddenly felt like there was a lack of information that should be available.

"Punching the wall," Johnny informed them darkly. The whole room went quiet. They had left them with the Dursleys all summer. The Dursleys, who they were convinced had abused Harry and treated him like vermin.

Remus sighed. This was going to be a long meeting with Dumbledore tonight. Mostly shouting, he guessed. Damn my sensitive ears, he thought to himself. He'd be too busy covering them to shout at the old headmaster. Harry deserved so much better. Looking at Sirius, he could see his best friend was thinking the same thing. They were going to give Harry a family, a proper family. Though, it seemed to Remus that Harry had already found one. Old and new, there was a room full of people who would die for Harry. He only hoped that was enough/


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey! Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I'm in a bit of a writer's funk. *frowns* I'm slowly recovering though. This chapter will have Harry, Johnny, and Izzy talking about their past while the adults give Dumbledore a mouthful about Harry's treatment at the Dursley's. Will it be drama-filled? Read on to find out! Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I have, however, recently discovered wrock, also known as wizarding rock. This is truly Harry Potter fandom at its best and kind of creepiest. **

Izzy and Johnny walked upstairs, Emma in Johnny's arms. The little girl had fallen asleep while they read the letter. The adults had shooed all the kids away because of the Order meeting about to take place. Both Izzy and Johnny hoped they ripped this Dumbledore fellow a new one. Harry had told them about the aging headmaster, and it hadn't been pleasant. Apparently, the old coot set him up to almost die every fricking year. Not cool in their book.

When they approached the room Harry and Ron were sharing, Izzy caught Johnny's eye and gestured to the door. He nodded, and she turned to Ron and Hermione. "Maybe we should go in first," Izzy suggested casually. "Harry might respond better."

Ron and Hermione looked like they were about to protest, but Ginny nodded in agreement. "Okay," she agreed.

Ron looked furious. "Harry's my best mate!" he protested.

"But they know him better," Ginny countered. Ron looked defeated at this, allowing himself to be guided away by Ginny.

Hermione hesitated. "Will he be okay?" she asked softly.

Johnny shrugged. "Is anybody?" he responded. Hermione nodded and followed Ron and Ginny.

Izzy took a deep breath before opening the door. Johnny followed her cautiously. It was exactly as they expected. A vase had been broken, shattered into a bunch of pieces, and a table kicked over. Harry was sitting in a corner, his face barely visible. Izzy could tell it was in his hands though. He was shutting off. It was a classic Harry move. Shut off your emotions, your heart, because it will make it hurt less. Johnny gently set Emma down on the bed. Izzy slowly sat down next to Harry. The picture from the letter and his wand were sitting in front of him.

"Harry?" she whispered. "Please talk to us. A lot of people here are worried."

"Iz, don't push him," Johnny reprimanded. "He'll talk when he feels like it."

"Well, that's just not good enough for me!" Izzy snapped. "This isn't healthy."

Just as Johnny was about to respond, Harry spoke up. "My eighth birthday party."

"What?" Izzy asked in confusion.

"The picture," Harry explained. "It's from my eighth birthday. It was the only birthday party I've ever had." He mumbled a spell, and the picture was clear to Johnny and Izzy. It was the four of them in a line, arms linked, ridiculous party hats in place. The party had been Daisy's idea. She thought Harry needed to experience a real birthday.

Izzy felt like something was caught in her throat. Seeing a picture of Daisy hurt more than she could've ever imagined. It was an intense hurt, one that stung in all the wrong places. Was this how Harry had felt for the past four years? Like there was a huge hole somewhere inside of him that wouldn't stop bleeding? For the first time, she truly understood Harry Potter. She understood all his lies and disguises, all his defensive mechanisms, all his hate and anger. "Does it hurt like this all the time?"

Harry ignored the question, leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes. It was times like this he wished he would've died instead. He wished he could've taken Daisy place. All those years ago, in front of the Mirror of Erised, Harry had lied to Dumbledore. Well, partially. He had seen his parents, all the family he'd never met, but he'd also seen Izzy and Emma and Johnny and Patrick and Linda and Bea. He had seen Bea. And of all those images, hers made his heart hurt the most.

The room was silent, so quiet that you could hear a pin drop, and yet both Johnny and Izzy doubted theirselves when Harry lowly stated, "I miss her." It was a shocking confession to come out of Harry, the guy who always ran forward and never looked back. It was a haunting confession, a broken one. It was almost like a sign of defeat. The taboo was broken.

"We miss her too, Harry," Izzy replied, but she knew their hurt wasn't nearly as bad as his. Because Johnny and Izzy still had each other, and Harry was alone.

They spent a few minutes remembering the blonde girl who had captured all of their hearts, the one who liked to wear butterfly wings and search for lost worlds. After a while, Johnny noticed blood dripping down Harry's hand. "Fuck, what did you do?" he stated, staring at the smashed up hand. Harry vaguely gestured to the table and broken vase. Izzy got the impression they didn't want to know.

"I'll get the first aid kit," she said, getting up and grabbing her bag. Johnny put on some music on the only electronic device that seemed to work in Grimmauld Place. As Izzy fixed Harry's hand, the three of them laughed over old stories and stupid jokes. Harry felt himself laughing for the first time in a while. Johnny and Izzy had done what they do best: fixing Harry.

Albus Dumbledore was not a man easily surprised. At the age of 114, he had pretty much seen it all. The emergency Order meeting Sirius called, however, was filled with nothing but surprises.

He sat and listened as Sirius and Remus explained what they'd gleamed from Harry's Privet Drive friends about Harry's childhood. Stories filled with horror, abuse, and neglect ringed through everyone's ears. Mrs. Weasley was sobbing, Mr. Weasley trying comfort her, his face grave. How could anybody ever do any of that to a child? How could they starve Harry, treat him like nothing but a slave, locking him in a cupboard? It just didn't make any sense to Arthur. Why didn't Dumbledore stop it? Why didn't he stop it?  
>Dumbledore was speechless. "No," he protested weakly. "Arabella... seen something... can't be..." Something horrible was settling in his stomach. What had he condemned Harry to? What kind of childhood had the Boy-Who-Lived experienced?<p>

"Why didn't he tell us?" Mrs. Weasley cried. "We would've tried to help..."

Snape, of all people, spoke up. "Most abused children have trouble trusting adults," he explained. "Potter's probably gone to an adult only to be disappointed."

Something was baffling Kingsley. "How did those two kids get into Grimmauld Place? Are either of them wizards?"

Kingsley's question sparked many more, and Dumbledore knew the only way this meeting would ever end was if they got an answer from the two themselves. "Well, I believe it's time for Mr. Potter and his friends to give us a few answers." He looked over at Sirius. "Sirius, could you...?"

Very reluctantly, Sirius left the meeting to go get Harry. A huge part of him had wanted to fight the old man and say that Harry needed his sleep, but the former Azakban inmate didn't want to get on Dumbledore's bad side. Sirius hoped there was a chance Harry wouldn't have to go back to the Dursleys.

He opened the door to Harry's room slowly and was surprised by what he found. The two mattresses had been pulled to the floor. Harry was laying on his back, the little girl's head resting on his chest. Harry's head was at the crook of Izzy's elbow. Izzy's arm was around Johnny. He was turned towards Izzy, his hand resting at the small of her back. Sirius very carefully laid a blanket over the sleeping teenagers and little girl. What really shocked Sirius was Harry's face. There was no pain or anger or exhaustion in his features. He was simply peaceful, content.

Screw Dumbledore, Sirius thought. He can get his answers tomorrow.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey! I haven't updated in a while. Sorry bout that! I've been getting bored with this story. I'm gonna try to wrap it up! Hope you enjoy! Thanks for all the reviews. I always listen to your reviews! Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I'm simply sitting in Journalism trying to take notes and write this at the same time.**

The vacation went by pleasantly. Slowly and surely, more and more details about Harry's life at Privet Drive were becoming available, due to much prodding from Mrs. Weasley and Sirius. Johnny and Izzy interjected where they could. Small details started to fill in. Harry told them about the cupboard, the hungry nights he spent in there, the days he sat there in his own blood. Harry told them about how Dudley once broke his arm and the Dursleys didn't even bother to take him to the hospital. Harry told them how he used to run and hide from Dudley's gang because the teacher wouldn't help him. There was still some things that stayed secret, of course. He wouldn't even mention Daisy or Linda, and Patrick was a sore subject. Still, progress was progress. Dumbledore, after apologizing to Harry for not knowing, decided Harry could stay at Grimmauld Place with Sirius from that point on. For just a brief moment, Izzy had seen Harry smile.

And then it was Christmas Eve. It was very special, at least to Izzy, because it was the first the three of them had spent together in five years. Harry had stayed at school for Christmas for the last few years, and Izzy could understand why. Christmas hadn't special for a while. Izzy had spent last Christmas watching Emma while her dad was paced out on the couch. Johnny had been in juvie again, so it had been a lonely Christmas.

This year, however, would be different. They would be spending it together. Christmas was nice, but Christmas Eve was their thing. They hadn't spent Christmas Eve together since they were nine...

_*flashback*_

_ "Harry!" Daisy shouted as soon as the black-haired boy walked into the kitchen. "Finally!" she sighed. _

_ Harry smiled sheepishly. "Sorry," he apologized. "I had to escape from Mrs. Figgs."_

_ "Made you look at pictures of her cats again?" Johnny guessed with a smirk. _

_ Harry groaned but nodded. Izzy made a face. "I hate cats," she announced. "They're mean." _

_ "Just because something doesn't like you doesn't mean you shouldn't like it," Johnny retorted. _

_ Izzy opened her mouth, but Daisy cut her off. "It's Christmas Eve," the little girl pleaded. "You two can get along for one night."_

_ Tess and Johnny glared at each other. Harry smiled at Daisy. Linda watched this from the doorway. She smiled. She and Patrick were never able to have kids, and this had always bothered her, but not now. Now she had four kids. They weren't technically hers, but that was okay because they picked her, came to her. There was Daisy, who was the walking definition of sunshine with curly blonde hair and a smile as big as the sky. She was the dreamer of the four, the one with tons of stories and adventures to be had. She also always had bruises on her arms from a father who was a little too grabby and a mother who was too weak to stop him, but Linda didn't like to think about that. Harry was Daisy's favorite, and only Linda could see why. While Daisy was blonde hair and soft brown eyes, Harry was black hair and startling green eyes. She was loud and bubbly while he was quiet and serious. But, there was an understanding between the two. Harry didn't need to talk a lot to Daisy because she simply understood. Daisy could sigh, and Harry would pick up on it._

_ Linda hated to admit it, but Harry was her favorite. He was the first one to come into her home, the first one to let her love him. She hated his relatives so much because they didn't know how blessed they were. They beat him and starved him and never understood. _

_ Of all the kids, she worried about Johnny the most. He was the toughest. Not the most damaged, but the toughest. Linda knew he had seen things no kid should see. His mother was a drug addict and a hardcore one at that. The only reason they still had their house was that it was protected by something his dad had done. Still, ends barely met, and she whored herself out to many guys, for both business and pleasure. Johnny was cynical, more cynical than she would like. She tried to mother him the best she could, but it sometimes wasn't enough._

_ Izzy was probably the one she worried about the least. The girl's dad was an abusive alcoholic, but she had a mom who seemed to care and managed to keep her daughter from the majority of the blows. Still, Linda knew a women could only handle so much, and eventually Izzy would be left to fend for herself. _

_ Snapping out of her reprieve, Linda cheerfully announced, "Time for presents!"All the children perked up and ran into the living room where Patrick was already sitting, trying to enjoy the peace and quiet. _

_ It was a nice Christmas Eve, one of the best ones any of them had ever had. Tess had knitted everyone a scarf while Johnny had made little whistles with his pocket knife. Harry and Daisy had teamed up and made each person their own mini storybook. Linda and Patrick had gotten the kids various things: toys, clothes, books..._

_ Daisy pulled Harry aside and handed him a package. "Merry Christmas," she stated sweetly. _

_Harry grinned at her and pulled a small box out from his pocket. "Merry Christmas," he said back._

_They both opened their gifts at the same time. There were simulations gasps. Daisy couldn't stop fingering the charm bracelet Harry had gotten it. "It's beautiful," she whispered. "I love it!"_

"_Good," Harry said. "It seems small compared to your gift." She had gotten him the box-set of the Chronicles of Narnia. _

_Daisy shook her head. "Nope," she stated. "It's perfect." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you."_

"_You're welcome," Harry said with a slight blush. She grabbed his hand, and they headed back to their family to enjoy what would end up being their last Christmas together._

Christmas Eve dinner was wonderful. There was all sorts of foods and tons of people chattering away. It was the best thing Harry had ever seen. Sirius and Remus told stories about their Maruader days, and soon the dining room was filled with various stories of the old Order of Phoniex. Mrs. Weasley kept refilling his, Johnny, Izzy, and Emma's plates, a comforting smile on her face. Harry could almost imagine himself at another table in another place, surrounded by different people that he loved just as much as these ones. Of course, he wasn't sure he wouldn't to be there now. He liked being here.

After dinner, once everyone had gone up to bed, Izzy, Johnny, and Harry had sat by the tree, presents in hand. Emma was sitting in Izzy's laugh, anticipation gleaming in her eyes.

They decided to let her go first. From Harry, the little girl got a beautifully bound version of A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens, one her favorite stories for Harry to tell her. Izzy had designed and made the little girl a new board game that encompassed about twenty different board games. Johnny got her a pretty doll that came with five outfits. When asked how he afforded it, the older guy simply said he scrimped on things for a while. Of course, Izzy and Harry didn't really believe that, but it was worth it to see Emma's face light up like that.

Johnny went next. Izzy knitted him a scarf and matching gloves that had the option to be fingerless if he so desired. Harry found a rare first edition copy of the only book Johnny actually liked, On the Road by Jack Kerouac. Emma had made him a book of drawings. Izzy got a "survival kit" from Johnny that consisted of pepper spray, a rape whistle, tasters, and a Swiss Army knife. When asked about said gift, Johnny only said there are a lot of sickos out there. Harry gave her a new camera, knowing that she loved to remember everything. The best gift of all, however, was Emma's gift: a picture of the two of them in Patrick's yard. The frame said I *insert heart symbol* My Sister. Izzy, not knowing what to say, simply hugged her sister closer.

Now it was just Harry left. Emma had, despite the difficulty, tried to sew together a case for Harry's glasses. Though the seams were a little bit crooked, Harry still praised the little girl's hard work. Johnny got him a handful of records he'd been looking for. Both boys preferred records over the new stuff like cassettes and CD players. If Patrick were alive, he'd say he'd taught his boys well. Izzy's gift, however, stopped Harry in his tracks.

She had taken the picture Patrick sent him, the one from his eighth birthday, and framed it. The frame was simple, but she'd somehow restored the picture. Though he couldn't figure out how she'd snuck it away with him noticing or how she restored it, Harry was grateful. More accurately, he understood. They couldn't keep ignoring the past, running from it. They had to face it head-on. Sure, it was going to hurt, but Harry was starting to realize maybe it was better that way. Maybe things needed to hurt. Maybe things hurt to remind you they mattered.

"Thank you," he said softly. There was no forgetting now, no more hiding. He was going to talk about the past, not run from it.

Izzy smiled. "You're welcome," she replied.

Emma was tapping her foot impatiently. When her older sister raised an eybrow at her, she simply whined, "A Christmas Carol!"

Harry smirked. "Hand me the book," he requested. Emma passed her new copy to him, and Harry began reading, his soothing voice drowning everything else out. As Harry read, Izzy couldn't help but think, God bless us, everyone.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey! This is probably the last chapter of Save Me! I might do a sequel, but I doubt it. Thanks to all my regular reviewers: Harry Albus Potter Dumbledore, Pheonix Autumn, Lusna, Hotchocolateaddict, V. K. Crawford, Joleigh13, Blitz-gurl-42, PenNameless1994 , Curly Wurly Me, Agoge, Rori Potter, Sabrina Lovegood, wisteria moonseed, Alpha Centarus, and DarkRavie. Thanks for your support! *cheers and whistles* Thanks to all my anonymous reviewers as well! Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, I wouldn't be in French right now.**

The rest of Christmas passed as fast as it came. There was laughter and smiles and a whole slew of stories. Remus and Sirius regaled them with wonderful stories of their time at Hogwarts, of the Mauraders and all the pranks they pulled. They heard stories of the First War, of things so vile and horrible they couldn't be real. Harry told stories of his own. Everyone, even his friends, were surprised. Izzy wasn't. Harry had always been full of words and stories, ever since they were little. He and Bea had spent hours making up stories, searching for them in every street. Harry told funny stories, sad stories, every story he could think of. Some were about them, and some weren't. Emma particularly enjoyed this, listening enraptured for hours on end. Occasionally, Harry told a story about Daisy, but he never admitted it.

There was also a lot of fun: inside Quidditch played and vases broken, usually blamed on Ron by the twins. Both Izzy and Johnny rode a broom for the first time. Emma wasn't allowed, much to her disappointment, but Harry had promised her she would be able to one day, when she went to Hogwarts. That comforted Izzy, the fact that Emma had a chance to leave the shit hole known as Privet Drive. They blamed wizarding chess and lost horribly to Ron every time. There was an insane amount of candy eaten, some Muggle and some not. Somehow, Sirius had managed to get a stereo working, and so there was also a crazy dance party to Mark's tapes. Johnny played the air drums while Harry performed an intense air guitar solo. Izzy couldn't contain her laughter, and neither could anyone else.

Even the adults were having their own fun. At night, when all the kids were in bed, the adults sat up at the kitchen table drinking firewhiskey and talking about old times. There was laughter and joy and forgiveness. Even Dumbledore got in on it now and again. The adults drank and toasted their children and Harry, the boy they'd let down but who'd still triumphed. Who will triumph.

Then it came time for Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the twins to return to Hogwarts. It was also time for Johnny, Izzy, and Emma to go home. They accompanied Harry and his friend to the train. Ron and Hermione went to get a compartment, and Ginny went off to find Luna, leaving Harry alone with his friends. No one knew where the twins were, and no one really wanted to know.

Emma jumped up and hugged Harry, her arms holding onto his neck. "Don't go!" the little girl begged. "We'll miss you!" Harry's heart broke at the sight of Emma's frown.

"Don't worry," he whispered into the little girl's ear. "I'll be home before you know it, and then I'll have new stories to tell you."

Emma brightened up. "Lots of them?" she asked excitedly.

Harry nodded. "Lots and lots," he promised.

Emma looked thoughtful for a moment, or at least as thoughtful as a five year old girl could be. "But you won't forget the old ones?"

Harry looked at Emma, startled by the question. It was the story of his life, wasn't it? His life before Hogwarts had been horrible, to be sure, but it had had its good moments. He'd had Patrick and Linda and Daisy and Izzy and Johnny to keep him sane. He'd had an abundance of stories and an unlimited imagination. That world came crashing down, however, when he, Daisy, and Johnny had gotten Hogwarts letters. Johnny's had been ignored just like Harry's, but Daisy's had been taken more seriously. The little girl fought and fought to go to this school until her father snapped, beating her to death in a drunken rage. Later on, looking at family histories, Harry learned that Daisy's father had been a squib scorned by his Pureblood family. He couldn't handle his daughter having the one thing he always wanted. Izzy, on the other hand, had relatives in the magical world but no magic herself.

Harry had managed to acquire wands for himself and Johnny in Diagon Alley. He kept both his friends informed on what was going on in the Wizarding World. It was their sound opinion that the Wizarding World couldn't find its own arse with a compass even if it tried. Emma had already started showing signs of magic, and Harry was determined to make sure she went to Hogwarts.

"No, I won't," he told the little girl. It was true. Harry wouldn't forget his past life. Sure, there would be new stories made at Hogwarts, but that didn't demean any of his old ones.

Harry put Emma down. Izzy hugged him tightly. "Stay safe," she whispered. "And give the Umbitch hell from us," she added with a grin.

Harry smirked. "Oh, I will." Fred and George had several great prank ideas that Harry planned to execute.

He and Johnny did that manly hug/handshake type thing. "Don't get blown up or anything," Johnny said. Harry laughed at the look of utter disbelief on Izzy's face.

"Harry's going away for the rest of the year, and that's what you say?" she shouted at Johnny. "What's wrong with you?"

"So many things, my dear," Johnny answered cheekily. Izzy just smacked his arm, causing him to squeal in pain and Emma to laugh.

Goodbyes had already been said to Sirius, Remus, and the Weasleys so Harry boarded the train and headed to his compartment. He, Ron, and Hermione waved from the window. Maybe it wasn't so hard for someone to save me, Harry thought to himself. Maybe I just needed to open my mouth. And, with a fleeting thought, Harry knew that he would be able to save them all one day, if need be. Lord Voldemort may have Death Eaters and dark spells, but Harry had something more important: love. And wasn't love the strongest magic of all?


End file.
